Her breath was stolen from her lungs as her body curled around a silent scream. The world went black as she was consumed by pleasure, but Ian did not stop until every last tremor was wrung from her limp body. Only then did he give her relief.
After placing a damp, lingering kiss on her thigh, Ian joined her on the sofa. She allowed him to gather her in his arms and hold her against his chest where she closed her eyes and listened to the powerful thud of his heart.
Chapter Thirteen
“With all due respect, I strongly disagree.” Mr. Finchley had imbibed one too many snifters of brandy following dinner and had no idea the dangerous ground upon which he trod. “Imposing such a tax will do more harm for business owners than good for the employees.”
Ethan stood against the carved marble hearth, one arm slung across the mantle as his cold eyes were fixed over his guest’s shoulder. Juliette knew her brother was making a valiant attempt to avoid calling Mr. Finchley any number of creative names. Having made their fortune in textiles thanks to an innovative production method, the Finchleys were considered “New Money” in London. Juliette could see how this might influence Mr. Finchley’s opinions of taxation on certain exports, but that did not stop him from being wrong. Dead wrong. Juliette had heard her brother practicing his address to Parliament enough times to quote the proposed tax. It was intended to place more money where it was most needed: In the hands of the families who worked the farms and raised the sheep, those who processed the wool and helped in the various stages of textile production. Her brother was known for his fiery oration and occasionally incendiary opinions in government, he could infuriate her when he attempted to control her life, but she knew he was a good man who wanted to use his position of power to benefit those who lacked a voice.
“I believe you are missing the point, Mr. Finchley,” Lord Leighton spoke up as Ethan continued to seethe by the hearth.
“And I believe you and Hopesend are missing mine entirely,” replied Mr. Finchley with a fragrant hiccup.
Juliette had to avert her head to avoid an odorous cloud of alcohol-scented words where she sat beside poor, mortified Miss Finchley. The girl was a quiet one, and, unfortunately for her, she was forever thrust into uncomfortable situations by her opinionated, outspoken, shameless parents. They weren’t bad people, simply uncouth.
“Eh, Dr. McCullom,” Mr. Finchley called to Ian across the room; he and Lady Sommerfeld had been listening to the back and forth in silence. Ian tipped his chin to indicate he was listening. “You’re a working man, too. Help me explain to these toffs how awful their tax would be for self-made men such as us.”
Ian’s face grew instantly taut and Juliette could see the discomfort in his gaze. He comported himself remarkably well in these social situations, but it was another thing entirely to be placed on the spot in a potentially contentious situation.
“I am not generally one for politics—”
“Come now,” chuckled Finchley; “no one else here can provide the same perspective.”
A muscle flexed in Ian’s jaw. Ian did not view himself as the same kind of man as Mr. Finchley. He was a man who had clawed his way out of poverty through grit and determination; while Finchley had the benefits of being born English, growing up in a comfortable family, and having the help of hundreds of underpaid hands to grow and expand his business. His business was so profitable that it had all but been handed over into the care of managers and solicitors, so the most strenuous thing Finchley had to do was sign a few papers now and again. He and his family reaped all the benefits. Meanwhile, Ian…Ian subsided on a diet of work and dreams for a better future.
Juliette held her breath, waiting to see how he would respond.
“While I appreciate your estimation of my person as a gentleman, Mr. Finchley, I fear I am technically underqualified for this label and too undereducated in the topic to provide any response worth merit.” Finchley opened his carp-like mouth, but Ian cut him off. “However, having listened to this discussion now for the better part of an hour, I will say that it seems Lord Hopesend’s proposed tax would greatly benefit working-class employees in England.” Ethan’s head turned and his eyes locked onto Ian as he continued to speak. “I am certain this seems selfish having been raised in this class, myself, but I can say with the utmost certainty that taxing businesses to assist the employees will eventually help the businesses, themselves. Giving workers a living wage will allow them to spend back into the economy. They will purchase better food, housing, and medical care—all necessities that far too many Londoners and other Britains lack.”
“And how is this supposed to help the businesses, hm?” Finchley demanded.
“Healthy workers are more productive, are they not? A man who is weakened by hunger or illness cannot possibly move as quickly as one who is well-fed and hale.” Ian tapped his temple. “And he is sharper when his body is well-nourished. Do you, yourself, not think better after a meal?” In response, Finchley crossed his arms over his girth. Juliette saw the corner of her brother’s mouth twitch.
“This is why,” Ian continued as he sat back in his chair; “I have been working to draft a plan to bring better medical care to those more remote regions. The people must still work to survive, but they cannot do so without the right resources available to them.”
“Here, here!” Lord Leighton chimed in with a grin, pleased that Ian was on his side.
“And what might that entail?” Ethan asked so unexpectedly that Juliette nearly jumped.
“For one, a more standardized level of medical care to be taught and spread throughout the country. There is currently no retraining of physicians who cling to the old ways, and they are often more hindrance than help to the patients.” Juliette saw Lady Sommerfeld grip her husband’s hand. It seemed an entire conversation took place in that small gesture. “And it would involve traveling to those remote areas, bringing supplies and medicine, manpower to assist communities in need.”
“And that would require a great deal of funding.” Ethan’s expression was thoughtful, and his eyes danced in contemplation.
“It would; especially because a great many of these regions may not be able to afford the same costs or resources that larger cities might. But these are people all the same, citizens of the Crown, and they all deserve the same respect and dignity afforded to anyone else.”
Unexpected tears pricked the backs of Juliette’s eyes. She’d had no idea the breadth of Ian’s ambitions, and to hear him speak of them so passionately, so confidently, was moving. She instantly thought of what he’d told her about his father and knew from where his inspiration stemmed. He wanted to prevent children from experiencing the pain he had; he wanted to save parents from burying their babies.
How could one man devote his life to others and still wish to give more of himself? Could such a selfless man truly exist?
“Fascinating,” Ethan murmured and the topic was quickly shifted to see who had traveled furthest abroad. Juliette expected it was Ian, but he remained a contentedly quiet observer.
Mr. Finchley became sullen as a child and impatiently requested another brandy from a footman.
∞∞∞
A hand darted out from a doorway just as Ian strode past. He was not, by any means, a diminutive man, but he was caught mid-step and the yank set him off balance. He stumbled to the side and into the darkened room with a grunt of surprise. The door quickly swung shut, plunging him into the shadows.
Blinded by the abrupt shift from the candlelit hallway to darkness, Ian couldn’t possibly know what to expect. His muscles tensed to defend himself…until soft arms wound around his neck, fingers burrowing into his hair, and even softer lips found his in the dark. Instantly, he recognized Juliette’s scent, her taste, the way she felt against him, the small sounds she made when he returned her kiss. Wrapping his arms around her slim waist, he pulled her body flush with his and tilted his head to deepen the kiss. She leaned into him, giving all of herself over to the embrace.
